A small bird is taken by a hawk
It is a cold evening
RICE
An old man sits quietly netting
Porthcawl
A child looks from a train
He puts his hand to his face, unbelieving
SAGO
The air smells of fish
The sea is heavy, swelling
It is too dark
The road that used to go there refuses now
The headscarved women
History is bunk
You have to understand the fish
Only the poor can afford lots of children
CREAM
Does night change to day?
Stealing milk from the urn, scooping cream
Uncle Jonjo
For some reason, there are too many wheelbarrows
CARD
I want a dream kitchen, a kitchen to dream in
I eat fish we caught
We have too many books
No Matter What
Jennifer Eccles' Fat Sister
SALT
Call me and I will describe it.
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